Picking up the Pieces
by ManwathielCaladwen
Summary: In the wake of Ginny's departure, I watch as Harry,the man I love, tries to put back together a heart and a life that was broken. I watch as he closes himself off, and I watch as he forgets that I am the one by his side helping him pick up the pieces.-One-shot from Draco's POV. Little bit of slash, nothing all that serious, though it's pretty angst filled. Don't forget to review!


AN: Hey everyone, so this story was inspired by the song "Picking up the Pieces" by Paloma Faith. I highly recommend it.

Anyways, I decided to try something new and write in first person. Admittedly, I found difficult this difficult, especially with my verb tenses. I read it over number of times and I am pretty happy with the way it reads and flows, but if anyone finds any mistakes or has any critique, just let me know.

Hope you all enjoy it!

~XXXXX~

**Picking up the Pieces **

I wait until I hear the door of Harry's offices close before I raise my eyes to the place he was sitting mere minutes ago. I hold my gaze there for a few moments before I let it fall back to my hands and the cup of tea resting in my palms, cold and untouched.

The overwhelming silence left in Harry's wake pushes me into action. Slowly, I walk to Harry's arm chair and pick up his equally untouched tea from the side table, bringing both cups into our darkened kitchen and setting them down with all our other dishes left from supper.

Although I could easily clean with a simple spell, I decide to clean by hand, knowing instinctively that I have some time until Harry will need me. I fill the sink with warm water and go about putting leftovers in the fridge, scraping half eaten suppers into the garbage bins, letting the mundane nature of the tasks draw my attention away from the grim reality of our established routine.

Admittedly, Harry and I are not the perfect couple. We have our problems, but considering our differences, we were making it work. I was helping him move on; to forget the way it was with her. We were getting by, dealing with memories of the war, and the history between us and our families. It seemed we were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay.

Then she showed up with her brother and Hermione for our New Year's celebration. For Harry's sake, Ron, Hermione, and I make an effort to be civil towards each other. She, in my eyes, was not welcome in our house but Harry said it was fine. I never should have listened, especially when she asked for a private word with Harry. I admit I was scared to let him be alone with her. He had finally started to move on from her; she had shattered him, leaving only a shell behind when she left him, and yet, he seemed unable to move on from her entirely.

Harry has never admitted it but part of him is still in love with Ginny Weasley. Part of him, I think, is still in love with the idea of marrying Ginny, of having a regular, perfect domestic life. The other part of him does not know how to move on, how to deal with a life left in pieces.

Regardless, I knew in my heart that when he left to talk with her, the man I loved would not be returning the same. The man who walked out of the parlour would not be the same as the one who walked back in. I was right.

He has never told me what happened, or what she said to him, but after she left with Ron and Hermione, Harry went to his office. Now the only time he voluntarily comes out is to eat meals at a predetermined time. Occasionally, we attend a social function at the Ministry just to maintain appearances. He has been on a leave of absences for so long that the Auror Department is considering giving his place to another until he in ready to return.

The silence that fills the house during the day is, to some extent, bearable. Shortly after New Year's, I arranged to work from home, and in my office, I pretend that everything is okay. I tell myself every day that Harry will arrive for supper happy and in a good mood. I tell myself that life will soon go back to normal, but I am still waiting for that day to come.

Instead, every evening at 6:30 Harry emerges from his office and we sit at opposite ends of the dining room table, with nothing but empty space between us. I tell Harry about my day, the work I completed, and I encourage him to eat more than a few bites. And when he refuses to eat any more, I escort him to the parlour and serve evening tea. We always sit in silence, the only sounds coming from the fire cracking in the hearth and the chimes of the grandfather clock sitting in the corner. Eventually, Harry will set his tea down and return to his own private world in his office where solitude and whisky become his solace.

This night had been no different.

I am pulled from my thoughts by the chiming of a clock, altering me that it is 9:30. Sighing, I look around our kitchen and try desperately to find something else to distract me, but like every night, our kitchen is spotless and in need of no care. So with a flick of my wand the lights go off, and I turn and climb the stairs, bracing myself for the inevitable.

When I reach Harry's office, I do not bother to knock because I know that he will not respond anyways. Instead, I walk straight in and a familiar sight meets my eyes. Harry sits in his desk chair, a half filled glass and a half empty bottle in front of him on his desk. His face blank and eyes slightly glazed give me reason to believe that the bottle was completely filled earlier this evening. I make my way to his desk, and flick my wand to empty the glass before I move it and the bottle back in the cupboard along the wall. In one swift motion I pull Harry out of the chair and lead him towards the door. His face remains impassive, but even in his current state, his Auror training and instincts are sharp and his eyes are ever alert and keen, taking in my movements and his. I wonder how much of it he will retain.

I lead him down the hall and through our bedroom to our bathroom. I turn on the shower, allowing the water to warm up while I remove both his robes and mine. His movements are mechanical, as if his body remembers our recurrent routine even if his mind does not.

He lets me lead him into the shower, and I wash his hair and body, but the whole affair is dispassionate, so unlike before when we would spend hours learning each other's secrets under the constant flow of water. Stepping out of the shower, I use my wand to dry both of us before handing Harry his pajamas to put on before I change into my own.

I motion for Harry to follow me into our bedroom, which he does. Sitting gingerly on the side of our bed, I make sure he is comfortable, and that his glasses and wand are within reach before I lean over and press my lips to his forehead and whisper an "I love you" against his warm skin there. This is by far the most intimate moment we share during a day, and though he never responds, at least he knows that I care, that I am still here with him.

Standing up, I turn off the bedside lamp and walk carefully towards the door before my name being said causes me to stop. I turn and walk back to our bed, crouching next to him.

"Draco, why?" He sighs before he continues, "Why do you take care of me every day? Why do you continue to put up with me? I don't deserve you. Why do you stay?" He sounds so broken, so vulnerable.

I swallow and feel a lump forming in the back of my throat. "Because you need me, and you deserve to be cared for, and looked after." I pause and swallow again. "Because I believe we are going to be okay. I stay because I love you."

He remains quiet, contemplating my answer and a silence louder than any words fills the room around me as I wait for his response. It never comes, and as he rolls onto his side, face hidden from view, I stand and move towards the door once again.

I stand in the door frame turn to face into the darkness of our room. My quiet goodnight to Harry is strangled by the silence that continues to fill the darkness. The door is almost closed before his fragile voice fights through the blackness and reaches me.

"I am trying Draco, I really am. I want to forget her. I want to love you whole heartedly. But I can't forget the memory of her and me together. I can't stop part of me from loving her."

"I know." Hearing my own voice surprised me. I had not intended to speak, but I really had known. I know she had a hold on his heart and that he was trying as best he could to dig out the thorns she left there. But it never seemed to be enough—for me or for him.

"I am sorry…" Harry's voice waivered as he said it.

I know this to be true as well, but I could not bring myself to say anything. Instead, I closed the door, effectively shutting out the soft sobbing sounds emanating from Harry.

With the door securely shut, I sank to the ground, my back against the wall, my knees pulled tight against my chest as my shoulders shook with the force of the pain welling up inside my chest and spilling over in the form of tears. For weeks I had been hoping for a break in routine, for some sign that Harry knew I was there for him, that I missed him, that I wanted him back. I wanted so badly to hear his voice again but now I wish he had never said anything. Hearing him say it, that he still loved her, it was worse than weeks of silence on his part and suppositions on my part. It was worse than seeing his beautiful eyes constantly clouded either by pain or alcohol. It was worse than the knowledge that we might never make love together again. It was worse than knowing that he would not remember our conversations in the morning. It was worse than knowing that I will remember it, I will always remember.

I sit across from our door until my breathing returns to normal and my tears have dried on my face. I enter our room again and listen to make sure his breathing is slow and steady, confirming that he is asleep.

I slide into bed next to him, exhaustion slowly claiming my body. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath as I tell myself that I will be okay in the morning, that I have to be okay—for Harry's sake and mine. Because despite the fact that he does not remember that it has been six weeks since he told me he loved me, or that he does not think about the fact that I have not left his side since she left him eighteen months ago, I still remember. I carry our love for the both of us.

I tell myself that I will be okay because Harry needs me to pick up the pieces of his shatter heart and protect them as he puts them back together.

~XXXXX~

The End!

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